


You’ll Never Feel So Helpless

by Cave_of_Confusion



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Crying, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Foster Care, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Major Character Injury, Neglect, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-02-16 04:19:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13046349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cave_of_Confusion/pseuds/Cave_of_Confusion
Summary: Eliza’s whole world was in flames. Not only figuratively, but also physically.She was forced to watch her whole world burn. After her adoptive father set a fire and burned down the house, she loses her little sister and everything she knows. She gets placed under the care of George and Martha Washington and their son Hercules. But when everything seems to be on the way to stability, her world is set ablaze. Again.(a.k.a a Foster Care AU where the first few chapters are angsty but then it gets better)





	1. The Fire That Started It All

**Author's Note:**

> I live for angst and the foster care au. 
> 
> We hurt Eliza, but I promise it will come to a stop eventually. Let me know what you think.

The first feeling that runs through Eliza after she wakes up is pain. Paralysing pain. Her side is bleeding through her clothes onto the ground. She looks around to see where she is, but not only can she barely see, she feels that if she moves, she might bleed out. She _will_ bleed out.

 

_The bottle, screams, dark._

 

Eliza's reasoning knows that it is probably the shock that is causing the memory loss, but her instincts panic. She frantically searches for something to grab onto with her hands and pull herself up. It was something that she could always do. Grab onto anything she can find, stand up and run. She wants to do it now, but she knows she won't. If there is one thing she learned since coming to live with the Reynolds family, is that she needs to calm down, think and keep quiet.

 

_Think. Think, think._

 

She feels weaker and weaker every second. She tries to move one hand when she realizes that she's laying in a pool of her own blood. The last thing she remembers is being pushed onto the ground with something sharp. _The broken bottle_. She can feel the weight and the pressure of the glass pieces on- in her side. She was probably taken by surprise since she never even got a chance to cover her side with a hand or curl in on herself. She must have already been barely conscious when she was pushed onto the floor with the piece of glass. Her memories muffled, head pounding, body immobile, she tries to focus on analyzing her surroundings.

 

_Wood, warm, familiar- Reynolds house._

 

James. That's it. She remembers how it felt being yelled at, grabbed closer to him and punched, then losing herself for a moment only to be stabbed and shoved to the ground. That’s when everything went dark. The skies seemed to have fallen. It felt different than usual, though. Her lower half doesn’t hurt like it usually does after Reynolds has a bad day and she doesn't have the same chilling adrenaline to allow her to pull herself up despite the pain. On the contrary- she’s too warm and worn out to even stand up. There is steam around her. No- it’s not steam- it’s smoke. 

 

_Warm, hot, Burning._

_Fire._

 

She gathers enough will and courage to turn her head and see an orange glow blurred by dark smoke in the kitchen. It takes all of her energy to crawl to the telephone on the table. It is just a few feet away -maybe 4 or 5- but when she reaches out and pulls the cable of the telephone to make it drop onto the floor next to her, she can barely do anything more than that. Shifting in and out of consciousness, she manages to take the phone, dial 911 and mumble a few words to the lady.

 

_Come to Jackson Street 137..._

 

_Fire..._

 

_help..._

 

_I’m helpless..._

 

The last words were coughed out, as smoke started to fill her lungs. From where she was lying now, she could see a blur of what looked to be a collapsed James in the dark kitchen. And that is the last thing she sees before slipping away into darkness as she hears the muffled sound of sirens becoming louder, as the help is getting closer. She can’t keep awake anymore, so she gives in to the darkness. 

 

_Gives in to the fire_

 

_Gives in to James_

 

* * *

 

The first thing Elizabeth becomes aware of is the feeling of a hand touching her cheek. The oversensitivity from just a simple action has her whimpering. She figures it’s James and she braces herself for what always comes after he allows himself in her room at night. She waits for him to turn her around onto her stomach and hold her mouth shut, but that doesn’t happen. Instead, he touches one of the bruises on her cheek that he has inflicted, probably admiring his “art” as he likes to call it. But upon further thinking, Eliza realizes that those aren’t James’s hands- they’re female hands. Next, there is sound. Lots of sound. So much sound that she squeezes in on herself in pain from the volume. Light follows next, causing the girl to screw her eyes closed against it. 

As the drugs start wearing off, Eliza regains the rest of her senses. She hears the loud muffled voices near her- all unknown, all too loud. She slowly finds the strength in her to lift up her heavy eyelids, slipping them open just enough to see the bright light and make her squint. Unknown, too loud, too bright. The voices seem to quiet, but Eliza can still hear a murmur of whispers. She is in a drug-induced haze, so she doesn’t realize when the hand moves from her face to her shoulder and gently shakes her awake. She only regains her mind when the lady starts speaking loudly. Too loudly for Eliza.

 

“Elizabeth, can you hear me, sweetie? Can you open your eyes for me?” The voice seems nice, but again, just too loud. Eliza does as she is asked and finally gets a glimpse of where she is.

 

The room is white and the bright light from above makes it even harder for her eyes to adjust. After a while, she sees a blonde blur near her- the doctor- and a dark blur, that is the other person in a neatly pressed navy suit. It looks expensive. Now that she has her senses almost fully back, she feels something is off. There is a lot of tension in the air.

 

“Hello, Elizabeth. How are you feeling?” The doctor asks with a forced smile, glancing between the girl and the monitors that she is attached to. Eliza tries to move her head to look around, but then lets out a silent squeak and lets it fall back into position. “I’m... Where am I?” Her voice is raspy and quiet, but loud enough for the doctor to hear.

 

“Do you not know where you are? Do you remember anything, Sweetie?” The doctor’s voice is filled with concern that she was trying to hide from the teenager by masking it with a smile.

 

Eliza tries to concentrate and go back in her memory. She remembers the vague idea of what had happened. Her adoptive father- James Reynolds has probably treated her a bit too harshly this time. Then, she remembers the fire. As the memory re-enters her mind, her shoulders hunch and she seems to close in on herself. She looks up at the two people in her room, studying their faces for the first time. They both had expressions of pity and sadness, but none of them faced the girl they seemed to be so worried about. 

 

After a pause that lasted for a bit too long, the man in the suit steps closer to the bed. “Elizabeth,  my name is Mr. Conway and I’m your assigned social worker. There was a fire.” His voice is deep and loud, making him sound formal and sending shivers down the girl’s spine. As he steps closer, a gulp starts to grow in Eliza’s throat, making her swallow in stress.

 

“Yes, I-I know, sir--I called-” Eliza starts, but is cut off by the man continuing.

 

“You called 911, yes. Is that the last thing you remember?” The man tries to be as kind as possible but earns only a nod from a terrified Eliza.  “We managed to get you and your sister, Margarita- who managed to climb onto the roof- to safety before the explosion.” Eliza carefully looks up at Mr. Conway, avoiding his eyes, but before she can ask anything, the story is continued. “The fire was most likely started by James Reynolds- your father.” The girl flinches at the use of the word, but the man doesn’t notice. “It spread into the gas system, causing an explosion. Your father and you were the lucky ones to make it without much trouble. I am terribly sorry about your sister, Elizabeth, but she still hasn’t woken up and she probably won’t anytime soon.”

 

The man spoke about Peggy in an awfully casual manner. He just told Elizabeth that the only person she cared about was in a coma and his tone didn’t even shift once. The girl finally manages to look up at the man. Before she realizes, her face is wet and she is holding back sobs.

 

“Peggy...” Elizabeth is starting to hyperventilate, thick tears streaming down her cheeks. “...Please...” She begs as if believing that that can bring her little sister back. 

 

Peggy. Peggy was upstairs, hiding from James, but Eliza came from school too late, having to walk past her drunken adoptive father. Of course, he didn’t let her go that easily, yelling at her for being an “ungrateful, useless slut, who doesn’t deserve to live”. She would usually leave with minor bruises and then he would appear in the middle of the night. He would wake her up, turn her around so that she would lay on her stomach and crawl onto her from behind. He would pin her down, and hold her face on the side. If she tried to fight back, he would make sure to teach her a lesson. The night before the fire, he put his hand on the side her face, pushing the base of his palm into the joint of her jaw. She didn’t cry, she kept quiet because that was what was expected of her. After what felt like hours, but was probably 15 minutes, she was left with a swollen jaw and a purple, blossoming flower of a bruise. But the next day was different -there was the beating, the punch, and the broken bottle. 

 

And then, there was the blood. 

 

_So much blood_

 

As tears roll down her face, Eliza’s hand goes to touch her side and her heart begins to hammer in fear. It is heavily bandaged and numb from all the painkillers and drugs she was given. More is said, but Eliza tunes it all out as she drifts in and out of awareness. When she tries to listen, she doesn’t understand what’s being said, because her ears seem to be filled with water and her senses seem to be muffled from the drugs. The doctor had to leave the room at some point, leaving Eliza alone with the man. This just adds fire to the flame and makes Eliza stiffen in fear. Her breathing heightens as she begins to panic. Mr. Conway can’t seem to calm Eliza down, so the nurse comes and gives the girl some more drugs. After a few more minutes of hyperventilation and panic, the sedative begins to sink in, numbing her mind and leaving her a mess, disorientated and light-sensitive.

 

* * *

 

When the girl finally wakes up the doctor is there again. As she is checking the monitors and pipes connected to Eliza’s side, the girl mumbles something out.

 

“I’m sorry, sweetie, can you repeat that?”

 

“Can I see her, please?” She pauses for a few seconds but continues because it seems like the doctor doesn’t really know what she’s asking for. “Can I see my sister? P-Peggy, the m-man said that she survived…” She hates to ask for anything, to speak out of turn, to disturb, but she needs to see Pegs. The doctor gathers her thoughts and takes Eliza’s hand in hers. The girl flinches at the touch but lets it be if that means she could see Peggy. “Sweetie, your sister is in a bad state.” The doctor can see the feeling of betrayal and of being lied to in Eliza’s eyes, so she continues. “Margarita climbed onto the roof, but part of it was on fire already. The fumes went into her lungs, causing her to suffocate. She’s in a coma and we haven’t been able to wake her up since.”

 

It’s been 2 days since the fire, and Peggy is still in a coma. Eliza was in one herself but woke up without much struggle. 

 

But Peggy is still asleep. 

 

As Eliza lets the words sink in, the doctor can see how Eliza goes pale, so she decides to talk some more. “If it makes you feel any better, I could ask for a wheelchair and take you to see your sister. She is right down the hall.”

At this, Eliza gives the lady a nod and something almost resembling a smile. A few minutes later, the Doctor, a wheelchair and in it Eliza with an IV, make their way to a quiet room at the end of the hall.

 

Elizabeth’s eyes glisten with tears upon seeing her sister. She takes Peggy’s hand in hers and kisses it very lightly as if she could break or disappear from the simplest motion. “Pegs…” The older girl speaks up after a while but then pauses again. “We’re free.”

 

Eliza puts her head down on Peggy’s bed as her sniffles turn into sobs and she whispers intelligible things in the softest voice into Peggy’s hand. “I miss you, Pegs… Wake up…” She pauses for a while to give another kiss to her sleeping sister. Peggy looks peaceful, but there is a slightest trace of conflict in her face and Eliza takes it upon herself to calm her sister’s slightly furrowed brows. “We could go run away for the summer, go upstate.” At this point, Eliza flooded her sister’s sheets with her salty tears. “We can go and stay in our father’s house. There’s a lake I know- from Father’s stories. We could go there together, Peggy. You and I… And no one else.” Eliza takes another pause and continues sobbing into her sister’s hand. “We are so lucky to be alive right now… Just wake up, Pegs. There’s no Reynolds anymore. No more pain or hunger. We’re free. We can do whatever, go wherever… We’ve survived for so long… Just stay alive and come back to me… We’ll start over, we’ll finally be happy, be free.” 

 

_“Just wake up, Peggy…”_

 

After that, Eliza’s quiet crying is the only sound in the room, except for the beeping of the machines her sister is attached to. For a while, the two sisters stay like this. Their breathing harmonizes- Peggy breathing through the machines and Eliza trying to mimic the pattern to calm down. The thing that breaks the beautiful silence is the doctor telling Eliza that they should be going, that she should rest. Eliza gives one more kiss to Peggy’s palm and whispers a sweet “I love you”- one, that only her little sister can hear.

 

They move back up the hall to Eliza’s room, where she sits on her bed alone. She realized that she feels safe in the hospital, that she wants to stay here with her sister and protect her. It’s only 11 am, but she goes to sleep, needing rest after seeing Peggy. She is both physically and emotionally drained which helps to soothe her thoughts and calm her down enough to fall asleep. She can hear the medical equipment beeping. It’s there to indicate Eliza’s well being, but instead, it just keeps making pointless noise. Silence always scared her. She was forced to keep quiet regardless the pain or contempt she was feeling. Sound was her saving grace, something to remind her that James doesn’t fully control her entire life. The sound of Peggy singing or her laughter always could bring a smile to her face. She used to be glad for any type of sound, but this one just sends her mind back to Peggy’s artificial breathing and the sound of the pump that has replaced her heart. Peggy and the lack of her usual giggling and smiling. Peggy and the lack of Peggy. Eliza never liked the quiet before. 

 

_Before today._

 

 

 

 

 


	2. The Goodbyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How it all started and more. Sad Eliza and angst. Comment and let me know what you think <3

“Elizabeth, sweetie, wake up.” The doctor touches her shoulder gently, but Eliza still bolts up in panic. “Shh… It’s okay. There’s a man in the hallway who’s going to bring you to where you’ll be staying for a while. Um… Mr. Conway, he’s called, I think. He’ll come in a second.”

So this is how it ends- or starts. Eliza’s eyes go wide and her face goes paper white, but she manages the slightest of nods. She has to obey, agree and do what people expected. She fights the gulp in her throat to push out a quiet answer. “Yes, ma’am.”

With that, the nurse stands and walks to the door. “Mr. Conway, you can come in now.” She then holds the door open and a tall, broad-shouldered man walks in. He takes one look at the girl in the bed and sighs, as if looking at her, was something that actually pained him. “Hello Elizabeth, how are you feeling?”

“I-I’m good, sir.” The girl replies, swallowing tears. It is obvious that she isn't good. She's even further away from good now, that the man is in the room. Her heartbeat heightens as he comes closer to the bed.

“We’ve found a place for you. It’s an emergency placement, where you’ll stay until we figure out all the logistics and get you somewhere else.”

“I-I don’t-" Eliza’s voice breaks halfway through the sentence. She trails off and rethinks what she wants to say because after all, she is speaking to an authority. Someone that had power over her- _also in the physical sense_. “What about Pe-Peggy?”

“For now we’re just going to get you better. We can think about a more permanent home later and as to your sister, we’ll keep her here until the doctors decide otherwise or she wakes up.” The man didn’t sound reassuring when talking about the girl’s sister as if he honestly didn’t believe she would ever wake up. That made the social worker even scarier and more untrustworthy in Eliza’s eyes.

Peggy would stay in the hospital and Eliza would probably never see her again.

Never see her little sister again.

_Her little sister..._

“Get ready to leave in the next 10 minutes. I’ll come and collect you.” With that, he makes his way out of the room, leaving the terrified girl. She was glad to be left alone, but that didn’t stop her from bursting into tears. She would probably never see her sister again if she were to trust Mr. Conway’s judgment. She feels the sudden rush of adrenaline so she slips on the sneakers that were given to her by the nurse, quietly makes her way out of the room and tip-toes to the room that she was taken to just a few hours ago. It feels like it's been at least a day, but that's just because of her sleep schedule. It has been affected by how often Eliza needs to rest, due to the extensive injury to her side. She arrives at the door unseen and walks over to Peggy. Her Peggy. Her little sister who just a few days ago was happy. She was laughing despite the hunger and despite the pain. Her dear little sister...

“Hi, Peggy.” Her voice is shaking already. “We won’t see each other for a while now… A-And you won’t hear from me.” Eliza pauses as if waiting for a reply, but when nothing comes, she continues. “But when you wake up-“ The thought of that not happening just makes her heart pinch. “I’ll try my best to see you again and I won’t stop trying.” Eliza is fully sobbing now, clutching onto her sister’s hand, like her life depends on it. Peggy has been the only thing that was worth fighting for in Eliza’s life. She endured all of the pain and suffering just to keep her younger sister safe, but now it turns out that it was all for nothing. Eliza is now going to have to leave Peggy alone. “I promise you that I’ll fight and I won’t stop… I-I love you, Pegs. I have to go now, but just know that I love you.” The older girl finally stands up and places a kiss on Peggy’s cheek. The thought of this being their last goodbye makes her heart clench, but she pushes it down. She wants to believe that they'll see each other again. She wants to believe that the kiss on her hand will wake Peggy up. She wants to believe. With that last kiss, she makes her way out of her sister’s room and back into hers, where she puts on the big hoodie she was given and sits on the bed. Then, she just waits.

 

* * *

 

The social worker comes into the room to collect Eliza. She’s sitting on the bed with her back to the door. She hears Mr. Conway clearing his throat and knocking which makes her jump. She freezes when she hears him come closer.

“We should get going.” Mr. Conway doesn’t seem at all awkward around the girl, probably ignoring how terrified she must be. Yet, without a second to spare, she stands up and turns to face the door, but still avoids his eyes. She’s wearing some sweatpants, sneakers and a big hoodie. Her own clothes got burned or taken as evidence by the police, so she was left with what the nurses managed to somehow get out of pity. Eliza nods and follows Mr. Conway out into the corridor and to the reception desk. As she sits down and fiddles with the rim of her hoodie, Mr. Conway signs the discharge papers and goes over her medical conditions with the nurse, to give the information to the people she’ll be staying with. People who won't care or people who will be just like Reynolds. She knows she is safe on the hospital grounds, but she’s not so sure of the outside. After he comes back with a file and 2 pill bottles he takes out his car keys and gestures with his head for the girl to follow. She tries her hardest to hide the fear in her eyes, but her trembling body reveals how terrified she really is. At some point during their walk to the car, she detaches herself from her shaking body and only regains her own mind when Mr. Conway opens the door for her to get in. She does so, and only then realizes that she has been crying the entire time. She’s about to be alone in a car with an unknown man, who for all she knows might have even worse intentions than James. She knows she has to be quiet to not further enrage him. She tries to make herself stop crying, but fails, so instead, she results to sobbing quietly clammed into herself in the furthest corner of the car away from her social worker. At some point, the quiet sobs turn into almost inaudible sniffles and stop altogether.

“We should be there in half an hour.” Mr. Conway says, making the girl wince at his stern voice. She starts to breathe more heavily knowing she’s about to be left all alone in a new house, without her sister. She misses Peggy. Peggy, who’s going to be all alone and afraid when she wakes up.

_If she wakes up._

Eliza hates herself for even allowing the 'if' to enter her mind, but she can't help it. Eliza was never the one to see the world through rose-colored glasses and deep inside she feels- she knows- that Peggy is asleep and she is likely to remain so.

Mr. Conway realizes how the girl seems to tense up. “There’s nothing to worry about. They are good people.” He fails to comfort her, instead, making her shake and seem even more terrified, so decides to leave her alone.

 

* * *

 

‘They are good people’ said Mr. Conway. The same thing was said about The Reynolds family. They were young- Eliza 6 and Peggy 4. It was great the first year. It was good the next 3. It was shaky the year before James’s wife left. Then, it all went downhill. First, James started being neglectful. Eliza, only 11 years old at the time, had to care for her sister and herself when James didn’t come home for a few days or was too drunk to care for his “daughters”. As long as Peggy was okay, everything was okay. After a few months of this sick harmony, James lost his job, came home drunk and did the impossible.

James never touched Peggy. If she did something that pissed him off, she would get hit, but he never touched her in a sexual way. The first night he came to Eliza was after she broke a plate at dinner and he kicked her in the face. He was drunk, jobless and hopeless. She was barely 12. The kick didn’t leave a big bruise, but it was the action itself that made her so afraid.

 _“You useless piece of shit! Can't you get anything right?” James screamed._  
_Eliza was on the floor quickly trying to pick up the remains of the plate she dropped. “I-I'm sorry, sir” she stuttered. He told her to call him sir a few weeks earlier. At the time she didn’t understand why, but she went with it to avoid the beatings that started to get more frequent._  
_“I can't do shit with sorry, can I? You should be grateful that you're even allowed under my roof.” He came so dangerously close, that Eliza was forced to smell the mix of strong alcohol her foster father had consumed over the day. She tried to get up, to get out of his face, but a boot kicked her face making her nose bleed immediately. Tears shot into her eyes and she fell back into the shards on the floor._  
_“I'm sorry!” she whined but that one kick was only the beginning._

The beginning of the unimaginable.

He woke her up at night by turning her on her stomach and climbing on top of her. She didn’t understand what was going on until he whispered in her ear.

_“You remind me so much of her. Your pale face and dark hair. Just like her. So innocent and so pure.”_

His drunken words made her freeze in place and shiver as she realized who he was talking about. She reminded him of his wife- Susan- who left a year before.

_“I'm sorry to have hit you, I really am. I never meant to hurt you, my dear.” His hands went down to her pajama pants making her whimper in fear. “Shhh... You don’t want your sister to hear you now, do you? If she ever finds out the same will happen to her, so keep quiet.” The last word was hissed through his gritted teeth. Every word he said was filled with hatred towards Susan, who James thought Eliza was. The scared girl just nodded with a squeak. “Every time you require punishment, you just give me the chance to have my way with you. You do realize that, right?”_

The night was full of pain and muffled moans that echoed in Eliza's head for the next months. It didn’t happen again for the next few weeks, but eventually, it started getting more frequent. The first year after that situation it only happened 3 or 4 times, giving Eliza a reason to not call the police.

_‘He hasn’t done it for the past 2 months, so maybe he’s stopped?’_

_‘He keeps us under a stable roof so I can’t just deny Peggy safety for my own selfish reasons.’_

_‘He won’t do it again. He hasn’t even hit us the past week, so maybe he’s getting better.’_

But after the first year, after Eliza turned 13, he started to come into her room anytime he wanted. She begged him to stop, she cried, hid, but every time she tried to do any of that, he would be harsher and hurt her even more. At some point, she gave up and dedicated every day to Peggy. Her little sister was the only thing she cared about and protected. When James became more abusive, Eliza would send her sister upstairs and try to deal with James herself. On the days when he wasn’t there, she would care for her sister and help her with anything she needed. She would cook for both of them, but when there wasn’t enough food left, and they didn’t have any money, she cooked for just Peggy.

 _‘Liza, eat.’ Peggy said when she saw her older sister sitting at the table without a plate._  
_‘Pegs, don’t be silly! I ate already!’ Her sister looked at her in a mischievous way, so Eliza continued her trail of lies. ’Besides, I’m not hungry. I had my portion while cooking, so just go ahead and finish so that I can finish cleaning up.’ She laughed at that to prove that she was feeling good. She wasn’t but Peggy was, and that’s all that mattered._

The neglect had started showing on her gaunt face and bony arms after a few months. James wouldn’t come home for days at a time, but Eliza never dared to ask where he went. She knew he was short of money and without a job, but she knew better than to call any police or social services. As long as they were under his roof, Eliza could create an illusion of everything being fine. She sacrificed so much for Peggy and she didn’t want to take her out of the calm and peaceful world she has created for her. Peggy seemed happy and Eliza knew that everything she’d done was worth it. James still appeared at nights- sometimes real, sometimes just the memory, but seeing Peggy smile or laugh was enough for Eliza. Enough to stay alive.

‘They are good people’ was said about James and Susan Reynolds. Susan who left the family without a second glance and James who abused, neglected and ruined Eliza and Peggy. The fire ended that misery, but in return, started a worse one- one where Peggy was in a coma and Eliza was alone on her way to a new family. A family that wouldn’t be any different.

_‘There’s no point in trying to escape,’ said James when Eliza tried to break free from his grasp. ‘I will always be there and you will always be mine. Your cries won’t save you, so just shut up and do as I say. I might even go lighter if you stop sobbing.’_

James Reynolds was not a good person _-and neither would this family_.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, and comments much appreciated <3


	3. The Phone Call And The First Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Thomas Conway calls the Washingtons and Eliza's arrival. Conway's a dick, Martha makes a mistake and Eliza's sad.

"-George Washington" An older man answers the phone in a stern tone.

"Good evening, Mr. Washington. My name is Thomas Conway and I’m from the social services.” At this, George froze for a bit. They’ve been trying to foster for a few years but, no-one ever reached out to them. ”I see, that you are listed as a foster family looking for a child."

“Good evening, yes”

“There is a girl in need of an emergency placement. We need-- ask you to keep her for a few nights until we can find a permanent home. Your wife was a nurse, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that's actually a major reason why we chose your family. We have a girl, Elisabeth Schuyler, 15- she’s at a hospital right now. She has a major injury on her side, and generally, needs medical attention and some peace and quiet. You only have an older child in your house, right?”

“Yes, we do. What happened to that girl, though?”

“It’s all in her file. I'll deliver it when we arrive- That is if you agree on taking her in" He pauses and continues in a whisper. "I can’t really share it now- privacy policies and stuff are a pain in the-" He cuts off, coughs and continues in his normal, loud manner. "But I'll have it with me if you agree to foster her.” The man pauses and pretends to sigh defeated. “That girl has been through hell, and we can’t keep her in the hospital and a group home is just gonna make things worse. Your house would be perfect for her for the next week or so until we're able to place her in a permanent home that's good with trauma.” His fake devastation is quite persuasive, giving that it is an adult man pretending to have a maiden in distress on his hands.

George frowned at that. “I understand, will you give me an hour? I'll talk to my family and call you back.”

“Of course! The doctors said, that she’s been sedated because of a panic attack, so they still have a few things to do until she wakes up... um... IV, a rape kit, re-wrapping the side.” He pauses again. “We won’t be leaving this place until at least 7 pm, so I'd be glad for a response before 6.”

“Okay, I'll call you back soon. Good evening.”

“Good evening, Mr. Washington, and thank you.”

 

* * *

 

 

With that, Thomas Conway hangs up. George Washington is a usually composed man, but this talk surprised him.  He leaves his study almost 15 minutes later, at 5 pm, and goes and to talk to his wife. Martha is in the kitchen, probably reading some emails from work on her computer. When George asked her if she wanted a study, she said that the kitchen counter is the place where she concentrates the best and that she’d rather stay as it is. He clears his throat at the doorframe making her notice him.

“Hi, we need to speak.”

“What happened?” Martha said without lifting her eyes from her computer.

“Remember when we talked about fostering?” That finally got Martha’s attention. “Well, we marked that we can be an emergency placement too, so a social worker just called and said that there is a 15-year-old girl in need of placement today. It would be for a few nights before they can place her somewhere where they can handle her trauma, he said.”

“Trauma?” Her brows furrowed in worry. “Did he say what happened to her?”

“He didn’t say exactly, he said it will be in her file if we decide to take her in. He mentioned that she has a serious injury on her side and that she’ll need medical attention and quiet. They saw that you’re a nurse, so they thought we’d be a good placement. We should tell him our decision before 6 so that he knows whether to look for another placement, I guess.”

“Where is she now?” Asks Martha.

“She’s in the hospital. They’re still running tests and procedures, but will be finished at 7. He sounded really desperate and I think we can do it. I'm saying yes, but it needs to be mutual. What do you think?”

“George, you know I care about those kids. I’m just worried if well be right for her. We haven’t seen her file or what she went through.” 

George sees that Martha’s starting to overthink. “Martha, it's just for a few nights. Besides, the man was convinced that we were the right choice, at least for now. The house is ready, the documents are ready, now I’m just asking -are we ready?” Martha doesn’t answer so he continues. “I think we are, hun.”

After a longer pause, Martha speaks up. “Yeah, I think so too.”

George smiles at that and with a bittersweet grin, yells. “Hercules, come here for a sec!” 

“What?” The sound is muffled by the pairs of doors that are between the kitchen and Herc’s room on the first floor. After a few seconds, Hercules is at the top of the stairs. “Is it urgent? I’m kind of in the middle of doing something.”

“It is, son. Your mom and I need to talk to you.”

 

 

The boy walks down the stairs to the living room and sits down on the couch next to Martha. 

“Sup?” 

“Remember when we applied to be a foster family?” George doesn’t give his son a chance to answer before continuing. “A social worker just called, saying that there is a girl in need of an emergency placement for a week or so. She’s 15 and it sounds like she’s been through some stuff, so she needs some peace and quiet. They asked us to keep her for a few nights until they find a more permanent place.”

Hercules looks dumbfounded. They applied 2 years ago and never got a call back, and they all forgot about it. “Ok?” He says slowly, still analyzing the situation in his mind. “What’s her name?” The boy says after a minute pause.

“Elizabeth. They actually chose our house because your mom is a nurse and the girl has a major injury to her side, that needs re-wrapping every night. She might be a bit of work judging by the fact that even her worker said that she’s been through hell. They need a quick response, though.”

“Wait, you mean she’s coming today? That’s really short notice-“ Before Herc can continue he is cut by Martha.

“It is, but they can’t keep her in hospital. I say we can do it.” This time Martha sound surer when saying it.

“I say so too.” George starts, looking between Martha and Hercules. “What do you think?”

The boy just smiles “Sure thing. Call him back, we can’t keep her waiting.” 

 

* * *

 

George calls Conway back a few minutes before 6. He says they’ll be at their house around 8, so Martha decides to eat dinner before that, to give the girl a choice whether to eat or not. She can always give her something later, while not forcing her to feel obliged to eat or to sit at the table. Hercules went upstairs to finish the dress he’s been working on leaving the Washington’s in an uncomfortable silence. They eat quietly as if waiting for something terrible to happen. Suddenly, the sound of the bell makes them both jump. Mr. Conway arrives on time with a briefcase and a small terrified girl. 

 

The social worker has his hand on the girl’s shoulder as he half pushes and half guides her into the room. Even though she’s hiding it well, you can see how uncomfortable the girl is under his hand and how she’s slightly shaking and flinching at his every move. Her own arm is on her right side, probably from the mentioned injury. 

 

_Elizabeth. There she is._

 

George didn’t know what he had been expecting, but the girl in their doorway certainly isn’t it. Eliza is tiny, can’t be taller than just a bit over 5 feet, and looks way too young to be 15. Her face is mature, but her alarmingly thin body makes her look years younger than she is. Her face is gaunt and her skin is very pale- almost dead-looking, especially in contrast with the deep purple bruise on her right cheek, and a head of dark hair made into a braid. There are strands of hair hanging in every which way, especially on her right side. What of her skin George can see seems blemished. Peeking out of her shirt, there were a few stitches, and her right side is so heavily wrapped, that the bump is visible even from underneath the big hoodie she was wearing. She was hunched in on herself and her eyes never left her feet. If Martha hadn’t said anything, George doesn’t know how long he would have stood there.

 

“Good evening.” Mrs. Washington says with a frown of concern on her face. “Hello Elizabeth, it’s nice to meet you.” She makes sure to keep her tone even and calm but she still doesn’t earn a response.

“C’mon Elizabeth, what kind of a first impression is that?” Mr. Conway fails to see or just ignores how scared the girl is, but manages to get a quiet “good evening” out of her after squeezing her shoulder. George is starting to hate Mr. Conway already. 

“Good evening Mrs. and Mr. Washington!” He says loudly, making the teenager flinch again, but finally taking his hand off her to shake George's and Martha’s. “I just need you to sign a few things and I'll leave you to it.”

"Sure. Elizabeth, why don’t you sit down in the living room while we sort everything out?” Martha says, trying to sound reassuring and pointing to the couch. Eliza nods and goes into the living room, while they head to the kitchen. 

 

They sit down and Mr. Conway quickly pulls out a folder and opens it sighing. "Okay, so this is the file.” The social worker takes the documents out of his case in an obvious hurry. “Here are the documents from the hospital with information about her health, um... Here are some more descriptions of what happened, and yeah. I think that’s it. So let’s go through it, shall we?” Thomas Conway says everything that follows in an obviously bored manner. “The girl is 15 years old, got adopted by James Reynolds at the age of 6. Her name is Elizabeth Schuyler. Parents died in a car crash and she and her sister were adopted not long after that. She’s been in that house until a week ago when her father started a fire and she was rescued. They later found signs of abuse on her body and she admitted that it has been happening for at least 3 years. James’s wife left 4 years ago and that’s when he became abusive to Elizabeth. God knows if it’s true but it’s enough for us to get her out of the house and get her a restraining order.” 

George’s stomach twisted and he knew Martha was feeling the same. The way the man told them about all the struggles of that kid like some facts in a school book and then doubted some of it made him feel sick. He repressed it though and kept listening. Mr. Conway leaned towards them. "You two are honestly my best shot at this. 9 years in an abusive household. This would cost me my job if it continued." 

 

"You shouldn’t see it like that. She’s a child in need of a home- not a problem to be solved." Martha blurted out, clearly on the verge and George nodded. "Can we have the file?" she continued. 

Mr. Conway was a bit taken back by Martha’s comment but nodded. "You’re not supposed to be a permanent placement, but I can bend some rules and give it to you regardless. I need it by Wednesday, though." Thomas looked at both of them, expecting some kind of a protest, but Martha just put her hand out.

“Are her medical records and information about the injuries in there?” She asked in the most serious tone she could pull off. The man shook his head and reached for another, thinner file.

“That’s all that was given to me in the hospital. She probably doesn’t have much medical history before that- like I mentioned- neglect, physical, sexual abuse. That’s the only thing I can give you and I also need it back by then. I’m coming to take her to the hospital on Wednesday to ... um..” It's Friday today, so that means they'll be fostering her for the next 5 days or more. He looks around for the medical file, takes it out of Martha’s hand and quickly goes to the last page. He eyes the page and squints at some information. “Oh yes, to get her stitches removed. I’ll be here at around 2 pm.” He pauses for a while as if trying to remember something. “Oh, and here are the meds. They should be described in one of the documents, and the medical conditions are described in here.” Mr. Conway says pulling out another paper from his briefcase. “There are enough pills to last you a week. We are looking for a permanent placement, but the lady who we were hoping to foster Eliza just got a new child, so it’ll take us longer than we thought.” Mr. Conway is, again, disturbingly casual when talking about it. “We’ll probably move her somewhere so that she’s not a bother.”

“We should be able to foster her for the next week or more-” Martha says, but is cut off by George 

“-we can keep her until you find a better place, even if it’s in a month’s time. We don’t want to be putting the girl through more moving and stress than necessary.”

Mr. Conway looks surprised at that. ”You haven’t even spoken to her, though?” He searches George's poker face but sees nothing. “Okay, that would help us a lot. I gotta be leaving now, but I'll come tomorrow to take Elizabeth to her check-up, but till then I wish you luck. See you.” The last sentence is said as more of a question but Mr. Conway is a mess anyway so that doesn't worry the Washingtons that much.

Martha, clearly annoyed by his behavior is about to go off on how he shouldn’t treat the kids he’s in charge of like some numbers in a document but is stopped by George. “Thank you very much.” He says with a fake smile. “We’ll see you on Wednesday."

 

With that, they walk him to the door and with some cold ‘good nights’ they close the door behind him. Martha can’t take the act any longer and as she walks into the living room to see Eliza, she starts a rant about Conway. “That man is a real piece of..!” She is stopped by George giving her hand a quick squeeze to tell her to be careful around the girl, but it’s too late. Elizabeth is already backed into a corner of the couch, making herself as small as visibly possible and is staring at Martha with scared, wide eyes. George can already sense, that it will take a lot of work to get her comfortable in their household, but he can also tell that it will be worth it. She avoids looking up at him, but he can see that she has kind, deep eyes that have a million stories to tell. 

George only realizes that he’s been staring at the girl from the doorway when Martha gives him a little push and gestures towards the opposite couch where she soon sits. He figures that Martha wants to give the girl space, but the teenager just seems so small and alone, that he wants to make her feel welcome. They sit opposite Eliza on the other couch, when they see a single tear dropping from the girl’s hidden face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. The First Evening Continued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The introductions, the angst, the flashback.

Eliza hears footsteps become louder and louder as what she can only assume is George and Martha come closer to the living room. 

 

“That man is a real piece of..!” Martha yells. It’s been around 10 or 15 minutes and Eliza has already pissed them off. Not only is she a burden, she’s also made them talk with a man that Martha doesn’t like. Great start, Eliza. Keep it up, and you’ll be back under Mr. Conway’s care in no time. Maybe he’ll even return you back to James. The tension in the air is unreal and the girl is surprised when Martha stops her rant mid-sentence and calms down.

They stop in the doorway, but Eliza is too afraid to look up. The man stays like this for a few seconds, which to the teenager feels like an eternity. Does he not like her, is he disappointed, dissatisfied? Will they not like her? Who would want a girl like Eliza in their household? She’s already caused Martha stress. Even James who was her father for a decade barely tolerated her- told her she was only good for one thing. They probably have plans similar to James’s. Oh.

 

_Oh._

 

Just as she starts remembering James and his ways with Eliza, Martha comes into the room and sits down opposite the girl with George. The few seconds under George’s gaze were enough to bring her to tears, and before she can wipe one off her cheek, it falls onto her lap. She can see it disappearing into the material of her pants. Why is she crying? Stupid, stupid girl unable to even make a good impression on the one family that decided to take her in. 

Before she spirals down into a heap of self-hatred and anxiety, she’s interrupted by a tissue being handed to her. She finally looks up to see Martha smiling reassuringly and handing a tissue to an obviously shaken Eliza. 

Eliza takes it with a quiet 'thank you' but doesn’t bring it to her eyes. Instead, she just keeps it in her hand to have something to fidget with during the inevitable conversation. She feels like she's been in this house for hours too many but in fact, it must have been about 15 minutes in the house and less than a minute since Thomas Conway left. 

 

* * *

 

“So dear, we didn’t have a chance to introduce ourselves properly.” Martha starts clearly wanting to lead the conversation and show her good side to the teenager. “My name is Martha, and this is my husband, George. We’re very happy to have you here. Do you go by Elizabeth, Eliza or something else?”

“Eliza is fine, ma’am.” The girl answers with a small nervous frown, still not meeting either of their gazes.

“Ok, great! It’s quite late and you must be exhausted, I reckon. Would you like something to eat?”

Eliza looks up and shakes her head gently.

“Ok, that’s fine. Why don’t we show you up to your room?”

Martha notices how at that, Eliza stiffens and looks down again with a terrified expression. 

 

_Oh. So that’s what’s going on._

“Actually, George, could you go and make tea? I'll go and look for the clothes box.”

George clearly sees what Martha's implying and as much as he wants to show Eliza that she can trust him, he follows his wife's order and goes to the kitchen leaving the girls on their own.

Immediately, the teenager relaxes a bit, though she’s still quite tense. Martha decides to break the silence that George has left them in by doing a bit of pointless rambling. 

“I really hope you like it here. I’ll leave you to get settled while I look for the clothes box. George worked as an accountant at a clothing company, so they gave him a lot of product. We never used it of course, but it has come in handy with our son a few times- he always liked to design and make his own clothes so he used them for fabric or examples.” Martha smiles at the memory but continues the rambling since it seemed to calm Eliza down a bit. “Of course, he is now too big for that, but we still kept the clothes. They were never used and should be your size. I hope you find something you like and on the weekend we can go to the mall and get something better, ok?” 

Martha looks over her shoulder to see Eliza stiff and paralyzed, shaking her head. 

“Ok, dear, that’s fine- we don’t have to.” Martha tries to be as casual as possible. The girl probably has severe anxiety and probably finds it hard in crowded places. Though it seems like her anxiety is an overall issue judging by the way she hasn’t let her body go and hasn't relaxed since her arrival. The girl has only been in the house for less than half an hour and Martha already cares about her so much. 

Martha opens the door to the guest room as they arrive. “So, this is your room. We tried to make it feel welcoming, but it’s hard to do when it hasn’t been used by anyone for a while. If you need anything just call George or me, we’ll be downstairs. I’ll bring you the boxes in a minute, good?”

Eliza, again, just gives her a nod.

“Get settled, dear,” Martha starts as she closes the door behind herself, but stops as she remembers. “The bathroom is the door there,” she says pointing to the en-suite in Eliza's room. “It has a lock on it and if you want to, we can get you one on your door too, that’s no problem.” She continues with a smile, but Eliza doesn’t meet her eyes. The older lady takes it as a yes, then. 

It’s been barely 20 minutes and the girl has already found a place in Martha’s heart. She already cares so much for Eliza and wants to hug her tight enough to squeeze all of her worries and fears out of her. Of course, that won’t do judging by the fact that every single move Martha does, makes the girl flinch or shake.

 

* * *

 

 

When the lady leaves, Eliza closes the door quietly and sits on the bed admiring the bedroom. The house she lived in with James wasn’t all that small, but you could feel the pain and neglect in every corner. Here, the house isn’t huge either, but it feels like it could fit a family- a real family. The blue curtains on the window, the fluffy carpet, and the fully-filled bookshelf make the room feel safe and welcoming- like a family should. It’s not like Eliza is going to stay here and they’re not going to let her use the room for long, but just the fantasy makes her feel better about the situation. The room is about the size of her room back at James’s but feels more welcoming and loving. It could fit an extra bed though, the bed for Peggy, just like Eliza always wanted her room at home. James, of course, would never allow the sisters to sleep in the same room. The thought of it brings back all of the emotion again. She can’t let herself have a breakdown, so she pushes the feelings down and walks up to the window for distraction.

It’s late November and the New York state is all buried in snow. Eliza has always loved winter and the view is breathtaking to her. Just as she’s appreciating the snow-covered trees and bushes, Martha comes into the room. Eliza turns around but doesn’t meet the lady's eyes. 

“I've got the box, dear.” The lady starts. “I hope that’s enough. The clothes should be around your size, but they might run a bit big. They might be mixed in terms of how they are gendered, but I hate differentiating clothes based on who’s meant to wear them. It's not like boys or girls have an extra limb or something” Martha stops as she realizes that she’s rambling again but  Eliza wishes that the woman would just continue speaking to fill the silence with her calm, soothing voice. “Ok, I'll leave you to it. You’re welcome to anything in the boxes, so don’t worry.” And with that, she leaves and closes the door.

 

Eliza opens the first box to find a bunch of sweatpants and jeans. Upon further searching, she also finds some plaid pajama bottoms. The second box is filled with tops and hoodies, so she takes a star wars t-shirt that she found and goes to the bathroom for a shower. She finds the toiletries and towels laid out on the counter and avoiding her reflection in the mirror she goes into the shower.

 

The bandages on her side don’t make showering easier, but she manages to only get a bit of water under the foil that protects the gauze. After 10 minutes she walks out, finds a pack of underwear she assumes is for her and puts on the sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. She brushes her hair and braids it, but remembers to leave a few strands on her right to cover the marks that James has left her. She brushes her teeth when she realizes that her the bandages seem to be wetter than she thought they were. Great. Now, not only is she in pain, she is also stuck with a soaked side. She puts on the hoodie and slips out of the bedroom. Turns out, the house is bigger than it seems. There is another floor on top and the house is overall spacious. Still, it doesn’t feel abandoned or neglected like James’s house did- it feels cozy and loving- and that’s enough. 

Not wanting to bend any of the rules she might not know of yet, she goes back into her bedroom and sits on her bed. The drugs that she was given just before leaving the hospital must have started to wear off because she’s starting to feel more dizzy, nauseous and her side and head are throbbing with pain and pressure. She wishes she could just snap her fingers and pass out, just like what the drugs at the hospital did, but she knows she wouldn't be allowed to. She isn’t even sure whether or not she’s allowed any painkillers and god knows she won't ask for any.

 

_When Elizabeth was 14, she fell off the stairs while running from James. It was back when she was bothered to try and fight him. She hit her head, so he carried her up into her room and while she was passed out, he was extremely rough with her. She woke up in the middle of it, gasping for air. There was a piercing pain in her wrist, where James’s hand was squeezing with his nails digging deep into her skin. But the most excruciating pain was between her legs. After he left, Eliza was left alone, bleeding, with her head throbbing and a pillow wet with her tears._

_In the morning, she was woken up by a sudden wave of nausea. She barely made it to the bin in her room, before vomiting what little food she had the previous evening. She then stayed like this for what felt like hours, dry heaving with her head squeezing with pressure. She went downstairs to look for some painkillers when she realized that James was watching her from the couch. It was Saturday, which usually meant a weekend of calm. James would leave her alone because of Peggy, but right now, Peggy was at a friends house, which meant that James was the only other person in the house._

 

_Eliza was alone with James._

 

_Eliza was alone._

 

_"Whatcha looking for?" He asked in a playful manner that immediately made Eliza freeze in place._

_"I-I was-"_

_"Stop stuttering." He warned his voice suddenly deep and serious._

_"I was looking for a painkiller for my head." She said after swallowing the gulp that formed in her throat._

_"A painkiller?" James started with his eyebrows raised. "Why would you think you were allowed to have a painkiller." He slowly stood up and made his way towards the corner of the room where his terrified foster daughter was standing. Eliza tried to back away only to hit the wall with her back._

 

_She was trapped_

 

_"I-I’m sorry, sir."  The apology and the title rolled of her tongue almost automatically. He told her to call him 'sir' a few months before and she has already found out what disobedience brings. 'I’m sorry, sir' was usually her 'get-out-of-jail-free card' that made a drunken James let her go. This time it wasn’t that easy, though._

_"You should be. Not only did you disrespect and disobey me yesterday, now you want a painkiller for the punishment that you have brought onto yourself?" He asked while getting up and walking up to Eliza. He was towering over her and the next thing Eliza noticed is the sound of a slap and burning pain on her cheek. She looked up long enough to see him glaring and then she felt her head throb so violently that black dots appeared all over her vision. She would never make that mistake again because the pain she felt after waking up the second time was twice as bad as the prior. James succeeded to teach her a lesson._

 

There will be no painkillers for her this time either. She lays down on top of the sheets, not bothering with covering herself. Her side is radiating hot shivers along her body and her whole world is spinning. She closes her eyes and moments later she is in a blissful sleep where there is no suffering or pain. There is laughter instead of crying. And there is Peggy. 

 

_Oh, how she missed Peggy._


	5. The Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning, Hercules, Martha, and angst <3

Eliza wakes up around 5:30 am. Only a week ago, that would be the time she would prepare breakfast for her sister- that is if James had any money for food. She would go downstairs, make breakfast, do her school work, wake Peggy up and get ready. The mornings were the only time when she could feel at peace. No James, no hunger, no problems. Going to school, she would have to face the worried faces of the teachers, who think they understand what was happening in her life. She would spend all her free periods in the library drawing or reading. With books, she could travel to another dimension, somewhere where there was a happy ending and she could do the same with her drawings. She could invent her own world, her own happy ending. She could put Peggy under the fig tree they used to love so much. She could erase all the scars and replace them with flowers. She could make Peggy happy, she could make the world better, she could control everything that she had no control over in real life. 

Now, at a new house, she has no control over anything. She doesn’t know the rules, the people, the house. She doesn’t know if it’s acceptable for her to be awake this early, and if she should even go downstairs. What would the punishment be? They haven’t hurt her yet, but there is a first time for everything if the reason is right. 

 

_When_ the reason is right.

 

After a few minutes of weighing the options, she decides to get ready. She goes to the boxes and takes out a hoodie and jeans she found. She really is glad that she doesn’t need to bother the Washingtons with spending more money, but she still feels guilty for using the clothes. They probably have some sentimental value to Martha, judging by her story, so Eliza tries to be careful about what she chooses. 

After dressing she takes a book from the bookshelf in her room and tip-toes downstairs. She goes and sits on the couch where she sat the day before and starts reading. Since it’s a Saturday, nobody’s probably going to be waking up in the next 2 hours.

Again, she sits an enjoyable silence- _peaceful, easy, soft_. Eliza never liked the quiet before, but without James, her days are filled with the restful, tranquil calm. It soothes her thoughts and calms her down, which is the opposite of what it used to do when James was still around. It was quiet in the nights when he came, it was quiet when Peggy was hungry and Eliza was herself quiet through the past years. That’s what she was told to do and that’s what she did. But this quiet was almost voluntary, she enjoyed it and wasn’t scared of breaking it- she just wanted to enjoy the silence. 

 

Around an hour later, Eliza is so taken in by the book, that she doesn’t hear or realize when somebody comes downstairs. She jumps at the sudden sound of the coffee machine working in the kitchen and next, there are footsteps followed by quiet humming. It’s a voice she hasn’t heard before. Then, appears a dark-skinned boy with a cup of coffee in his hand and his phone in the other. He comes into the room and seems to be surprised when he sees the girl. 

They stare at each other for a few seconds before the boy breaks the silence. “Hi, good morning!” He laughs gently and puts his phone in his pocket. “I’m Hercules- Mom might have mentioned me.” He states it as more of a question and puts out his free hand.

Eliza reaches for the hand, shakes it and meets the boy’s gaze. He’s smiling and his eyes seem warm and kind. “Eliza.” She pushes out after a while. “I don’t think Mrs. Washington mentioned you, sorry.”

She honestly expects the boy to be pissed that Eliza doesn’t know who he is but he just chuckles under his breath and continues the conversation in the same cheerful manner. “God, she really does forget everything. I’m Herc- your foster brother.”

 

* * *

 

The girl looks overwhelmed but manages to push out a small nod and something resembling a smile. It really is quite a way to meet his sister- walk in on her, singing, in his pajamas. Great first impressions, Herc, congratulations. The girl is clearly uncomfortable so he continues the conversation without waiting for any feedback. “What are you reading?”

Eliza just lifts the book but seems more open with her body language. “Oh ya, we read that in school. Do you like it so far?” He asks after turning his head to the side to read the title. Small talk- great job Hercules Mulligan. Where has your great wit gotten to? The book is called “Things fall apart” and the boy is clearly surprised by the unusual choice. He doesn’t press on it though- Maybe that’s something the girl actually enjoys. As a response, he only receives a shrug, but there are still the leftovers of the smile on Eliza’s face.

 

“Imma go and make some pancakes- do you want any?” He asks as he’s heading out of the room to the kitchen. 

“If it’s not a bother.” She says in a quiet voice while getting up and Herc just smiles and leaves the room. Her voice is raspy, quiet, but also warm and kind. Surprisingly to him, the girl follows him and sits at the kitchen table with her book. Hercules gets to work and they stay in the quiet for the next half hour as Herc is making the pancakes. He really is glad that a girl that seemed to be terrified of him a few minutes ago is now trusting him enough to sit in peace with her book when he’s at the kitchen counter.

 

Somewhere through the cooking, Eliza took off her hoodie and Hercules was stunned. Now that she is in short sleeves, his eyes are drawn to a horrifying bruise on her upper arm that’s partially in the shape of a handprint. You can see all five fingertips like somebody grabbed her hard and wouldn’t let go. It seems like she also took time to redo her braid while he was turned around, revealing her hollow cheeks marked by a bruise on the right side of her face. The burgundy hue spreads all the way to her neck and ear. It’s as if someone’s hand was pushing her into something, in effect leaving her with a swollen jaw and a purple cheek. Upon seeing her thin, bony arms and overall too skinny body, Hercules’s dad instincts turn on. He immediately turns back to cooking with a mission to make the best pancakes that his foster sister will not be able to refuse. After 5 or more minutes of fiddling around with the pan and the spatula, Hercules puts a plate with a mountain of pancakes on the table as well as 2 empty plates for him and Eliza. Eliza is again so engulfed in the book that she jumps at Hercules' unexpected movement but he decides to ignore it and goes and sits opposite her.

“It’s Lafayette’s recipe and he claims that his pancakes are better than mine but I don’t think so. You’ll judge yourself when you taste his and see that his don’t even compare.” Herc begins as he’s digging into his breakfast with a smile on his face.

 

“What’s that smell?” The teenagers hear a voice getting closer and soon Martha appears in the kitchen. “Good morning Hercules, Eliza.” she greets them with her back to the teenagers as she’s getting a plate out of the cupboard and soon serves herself with 4 pancakes. 

“Good morning,” Eliza says quietly. Herc is too consumed in his pancakes to greet his mom but still notices how tense Eliza became when Martha sat down at the table.

“Is Laf coming today?” Martha asks after staring at the pancakes as if trying to figure out something and the answer was sat somewhere on the plate. 

“He might. Depends.” Herc replies casually. Laf wanted to come and meet Eliza, but judging on how uncomfortable she is with the Washingtons, it might be even worse with a stranger.

Eliza is looking between the two, probably trying to figure what told Martha that anyone would be coming. Martha notices the girl’s confused gaze so she starts. “Herc usually only makes the pancakes when Lafayette is coming to try and impress him and show-“ She is cut off by a too eager Hercules.

“That my pancakes are better than his because they are.” He chimes in and continues Martha's sentence with a grin.

 

Martha just raises her eyebrows and digs into her second pancake. During the exchange, Eliza only ate one small pancake and pushed the rest around on the plate. She now has her hand on her stomach and you can see how unwell she was feeling. Herc tried to ignore it and only gave her an encouraging smile when their eyes met, but now Eliza was really starting to become pale.

"I’m sorry, may I be excused?" The girl mumbles with a hand over her mouth already standing up from the table.

"Sure dear, are you okay?" Martha asks with clear worry painting her face, but only gets a nod from Eliza who is already halfway through the door.

 

When the girl leaves Hercules is quick to blame himself and start worrying like crazy. "Mom, is she going to be ok?"

"I think her body isn’t used to food, or any nutrition to be honest." 

 

* * *

 

Their saddened eyes meet as they both wonder what brought the girl to the state where she can't even eat a pancake without feeling unwell.

Eliza returns after around 10 minutes, with her hand on her side. Martha is quick to remember that Eliza hasn’t taken her pain medication and she still hasn’t had her side re-wrapped after yesterday’s shower. Martha gets up to look up the meds in the file. Eliza has in fact missed yesterday’s dose. She probably didn’t know about the medication or was too scared to ask. She still has the pain medication scheduled for the morning to take, so Martha gets her a glass of water and the pill bottles. She makes sure to take the pills out with Eliza present so that the girl can see what she’s taking. Again- experience with traumatized people as a nurse- apparently it builds trust and shows that you’re on their side. Martha doubts it will have the same effect with Elizabeth, but she’s willing to try whatever she can to get the girl out of her terrified shell, even just a bit. She puts the water in front of Eliza and takes the pills out on a plate. 

“These are the meds that the hospital gave you. They’re painkillers for your side and something for general trauma.” Martha says popping the final pill out of the bottle. It’s quite a collection on the plate. 3 different types of pills each in different quantities. Ever since returning to the table Eliza seems generally out of it, so she takes the medication without much hesitation and drinks the whole glass of water with it. When she puts the glass back on the table, she quietly sighs and whispers a ‘thank you’. She was probably in need of painkillers but didn’t want to ask. They’ll have to work on it. 

 

_Wait, no_

 

_The next family_ will have to work on it with Eliza because she’s _not_ staying with the Washington’s. Martha knows not to get attached but it’s hard. Her common sense knows that she shouldn’t care for the girl too much or it will cause a heartbreak in a few days, but it might be too late.

“Your file says that your side needs rewrapping every day. I used to be a nurse and your doctor and social worker asked me to help you with the side.” she starts, but pauses when Eliza’s doe eyes meet hers for the first time this morning. The eye contact doesn’t last long because after a few seconds of initial fear she looks down at her hands and nods quietly. “I do understand if you’re uncomfortable with it, dear. Do you think we can do it now and then you can go and sleep? I reckon the meds will make you quite tired.” She continues with an understanding expression and earns a nod from the girl who now seems to be worlds away. Martha’s not surprised.

 

They get up and go to Eliza’s room with Martha getting the first aid on the way. Eliza sits on her bed and waits for Martha to get the supplies ready. 

 

“Could you lift up your T-shirt please?” She hears the girl’s breath hitch at the question but complies.

When the t-shirt is up, Martha is beyond horrified. She tries not to show it, but she wants to cry. From what she can see of the girl’s ribs, they are all covered in purple and green bruises, some older and some still fresh. Her alarmingly hollow stomach has a few older scars as well as a bouquet of blossoming bruises covering her whole torso. The bandage is covering half of it, but Martha can guess that the stab wound will be even worse. “Eliza, I will try to keep touching to a minimum. Tell me if it gets too much, and I’ll stop, ok?” Eliza nods again with her eyes absent. 

 

Martha takes off the older bandage, which isn’t as soggy from the shower as she thought it would be and sees the wound. It’s two big cuts that form a shape of a half circle, clearly showing what caused the injury. The stitched up cuts are healing well, but it doesn’t show due to the extensive bruising around them. The girl must have had some internal bleeding and is for sure in a lot of pain. How the hell did she survive yesterday’s evening without the painkillers? Martha tries to be as quick and smooth as possible, but Eliza still flinches at almost every touch and at the end, when Martha finishes Eliza has tears flowing down her cheeks. The older lady can’t imagine what type of memories she must have brought up, but there’s nothing she could have done to avoid it. Someone had to change the bandages and George or Hercules would probably be an even worse option. 

 

“We’re done, dear. I’ll leave you to it. Feel free to come downstairs or stay here. Call me if you need anything, ok?” With that Martha leaves the girl alone, but Eliza doesn’t move an inch, eyes lifeless and dull as she stares into space. She looks clearly out of it and doesn’t even give Martha her typical nod. In fact, her eyes are glazed over and she’s not showing any signs of life. Martha takes it as a queue to leave and as soon as she’s out of the door she lets the smiling mask on her face drop. This girl has been through way too much for someone her age, or any age at all and the bruises are just a proof of how unfairly life has treated her. Every time she closes her eyes she is haunted by the image of Eliza’s skeleton-like frame with the hollow stomach and poking-out ribs as well as the cuts, bruises, and scars that cover her whole torso. Martha barely makes it to her bedroom before breaking down in sobs. Imagining anyone hurt a sweet, innocent child like Eliza is something Martha just can’t shake. She sits on the floor, her back against the bed and closes her eyes, trying to stop the tears. She fails. She fails to stop the tears and she dreads what else will she fail at. Eliza has been failed by her parents and her foster parents. She’s been failed by the system she was put in and by the world that failed to realize her pain. Martha doesn’t want to fail her. 

 

_Martha will not fail her._

 

And right there, Martha makes a decision to protect Eliza and prevent anyone from failing her any further.

 


	6. The dropped Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating for ages. Life has been kicking my ass and getting enough time and will to write is hard. 
> 
> Eliza is precious and Herc is an angel. Brother-sister bonding.
> 
> Please tell me what you think. Comments really make my day and motivate me

After Martha leaves the room, they don't see Eliza for a few hours. The family is in the kitchen, Herc and Martha chatting and George making dinner when Eliza's quiet footsteps make their way downstairs. Upon hearing George's voice, Eliza comes to a halt. The man is in the kitchen, chuckling, but that wasn't always a good thing. James also laughed a lot, especially when he got drunk, so that doesn't mean anything. Eliza swallows the gulp that formed in her throat and steps into the kitchen.

"Hi, dear, how are you?" Martha asks casually, the smile not coming off her face.

"I'm good, ma'am, thank you," Eliza answers, her voice just above a whisper. She still hasn't looked up to see where George was, but she was sure that he was in the kitchen.

"Dinner's almost ready, give me 10 minutes!" George yells from across the kitchen, making Eliza jump and screw her eyes shut. Thank God, that Martha was getting water for Eliza and she didn't see that. What would they think of the girl? Flinching and jumping at any sound- pathetic. The older woman hands Eliza a glass of water and gestures to the table, finally making the teenager look up.

 

 

George is at the cutting board, dealing with the vegetables for dinner. Every time his body moves in any way, Eliza gets a rush of fear through her veins. She sits at the table to not seem rude and just sips on the water that Mrs. Washington gave her. Herc and Martha are talking about some trip to the textile store and Eliza tries to focus on that, but her mind is filled with the image of the knife in the man’s hand. Her eyes are glazed with tears and if anyone looked her way, they would see right through her calm act. Thank god they don’t, thought Eliza, but deep inside she hopes someone would get the knife away from George. Her thoughts are cut short by the man himself.

“Shi-sorry!” He stops in the middle of the swear word, but his deep voice still echoes through the room. Eliza can’t help but jump and the tears that she kept in somehow find a way to get out and stream down her face.

The glass drops from her hand and almost like in slow motion shatters on the kitchen tiles and Eliza, with a deer-in-the-headlights expression, drops down to the floor with it. She can practically see the darkness threatening to take claim over her vision and she tries to collect the glass pieces anyway but is stopped by George.

“Eliza!” He shouts to stop her from hurting herself, but Eliza only lets out a terrified sob and starts shaking slightly. It’s not very violent shaking, but it’s enough for a few pieces of the glass to dig into her skin and cut it open. She then whispers a quiet “I'm so sorry” and with another sob, this time louder flees the room and runs upstairs.

Hercules, Martha and George exchange looks that are all filled with surprise, worry, and general confusion. After a few seconds of staying dumbfounded like that, George breaks the silence.

“I’m- I should check up on her.” He says with evident guilt in his voice.

“No, George- She’s hurt and terrified and she doesn’t need more stress-“ Martha answers, but is stopped by Hercules standing up and cutting her off.

“Mom, I'll go. I can handle her hands and calm her down.” Hercules’s tone is stern and commanding and doesn’t leave room for either of his parents to protest, before leaving the kitchen and running upstairs. He takes the first aid kit from the bathroom and bolts to Eliza's room. Just before clutching the handle, he stops to knock and quietly speaks.

 

 

“Hey Eliza, it’s Hercules. I’ve got a first aid kit with me, and I want to help you with your hands and everything. Mom and dad are downstairs and they’re not mad at all. We’re all worried about you, so if you’re ok with it, could you let me in?”

He hears a quiet sob followed by a raspy voice. “You- You can come in.”

After that, he opens the door and sees Eliza sitting on the floor, her back resting on the side of the bed. She has her arms around her knees and she’s squeezing as tight as possible to make herself smaller. She has a tissue in her hurt hand that is now red from all the blood it’s soaking up. Hercules makes sure to make his footsteps even, calm and quiet. He sits in front of Eliza but doesn’t see her face, since it’s buried in her knees.

“Eliza, can I see your hand?”

He can see the slightest trace of a nod and then Eliza lets one of her arms go and shows Hercules her hand. There aren’t any pieces of glass left in it, which Hercules is grateful for. The position she sat in, the clutching of the tissue and the squeezing of her knees up to her chest would have resulted in a serious injury with the glass buried deep inside her hand, had there been any. Thank god, it’s only a few cuts. They aren’t that shallow, but it’s something he can deal with. Martha had taught him how to deal with that type of injury and his skills aren’t that rusty, because of all the practice he has with his friends. He takes out all the things he needs to treat Eliza and gets to work. They sit in silence for a few minutes. Halfway through the bandaging Eliza peeked up from her knees and started watching Hercules work with curiosity. Hercules decided to ignore her gaze and let her be comfortable looking at her hand being cared for. After tying up the last bandage, he finally looks up at Eliza, but she doesn’t meet his eyes.

"You’ll need to change the bandage tomorrow morning or earlier if it leaks. I can help you with it if that’s okay with you."

She nods and pushes out a quiet 'thank you'.

"No problem." He responds with a small smile. He was gonna ask her about so many things- how often do you have panic attacks, what triggered it, how can he help? Instead, he decides to stay with Eliza in her room and change the subject to something lighter.

“It should heal completely in a few days. I’m kind of the dad friend in our friend group. Laf gets in a lot of fights, so I always take care of him.” he said with a gentle chuckle “He's quite...” he stops for a moment, searching for both a word and any hint of emotion in the girl’s face. “Quite fiery.”

Eliza is still looking down at her hand but seems to open herself up a bit with her body language, so Hercules continues his rambling.

"Laf never gets himself badly hurt, but there were times when he would have his knuckles so bruised that I had to take him to the hospital to get an x-ray or stitches. Also, Martha is a nurse and I was always fascinated by what she did, so I asked her to teach me to heal people, which is what I thought she did. I wasn’t wrong really."

"Who’s Laf?" Eliza says in a quiet, raspy but interested tone.

"Oh, Laf is my boyfriend. His full name is way too long so we just call him Lafayette or Laf. He comes from a French noble family so his family gave him every possible saint's name."

Eliza actually smiles at that. It’s not a laugh, but it’s enough to call a real smile.

"Ya, he’s the sweetest person. He’s really excited to meet you sometime." Eliza’s smile now turns from genuine to a bit forced as if saying that she’d rather not meet him but she doesn’t want to seem rude and say no.

Herc looks around the room to let Eliza have a moment to relax when he sees a sketchbook on her bed stand.

“Do you draw?” he asks to lighten the mood and take Eliza out of her thoughts.

“Sometimes.” She says with a shrug. A shrug is some kind of an emotion, so Herc considers it another victory.

“Can I see?” Hercules tries to be as casual as he can, but he is very excited to finally find something out about Eliza. She draws, that’s a start. Eliza nods at his question and Hercules opens the book.

There are sketches of a girl- curly hair, full lips, perked up nose. He flicks through the pages- there are only 10 or so filled- and can’t help but admire Eliza's skill. There is a house, sunflowers, a big tree and the girl. 4 motives that repeat throughout all the sketches and drawings.

“They’re beautiful.” Hercules pauses to look closer at a picture of a girl in a flowing dress with sunflowers in her hand. “Who is the girl?” he asks before thinking and only regrets his decision after seeing Eliza's face darken.

“My sister,” she says quietly and softly. “she’s in the hospital.”

Hercules looks at Eliza confused- another mistake- but she continues.

“She’s in a coma. They couldn’t keep me in the hospital so they moved me, but Peggy is staying there.” Eliza doesn’t face Hercules. She’s sitting a few feet away and seems to be holding her side and gently rubbing it. Herc figures that whatever brought that injury, probably also put Eliza's sister in a coma.

“I’m sorry.” Hercules is generally sorry for both the girl's sister and for asking. He doesn’t want to make any more mistakes in one evening so after a while, he just leaves Eliza in her room and goes downstairs to his parents.

 

 

As soon as he stepped through the doorway, Martha bombarded him with questions. How is she? Is she badly hurt? Should we go to the hospital? Etc, etc.

"Mom, stop!"

"Okay, just tell me what happened then, don’t just stand there!” Martha says with a lot of pent-up nervous energy radiating off her.

“Ok, ok! She’s fine. Her hand has a few cuts but I dealt with it all. I disinfected and bandaged it and left it to heal. Tomorrow I can change it into something lighter than the bandages. Good?” He says quickly but in a stern manner to show that he is confident in what he’s saying and what he's done.

"I’m very proud of you, Herc. And how is she? I mean not physically?” Martha asks with obvious worry painting her face.

Herc frowns at that, his face showing how bad Eliza's state is. “I don’t know, mom. She was on the floor crying when I came in, with her head between her knees. She had her arms around her knees, squeezing them closer to her chest, only causing more blood loss. She was probably having a panic attack. I came in and dealt with her hand, but she didn’t calm down until I was halfway done with the wrapping. It’s like she wasn’t even in the room with me- stiff, quiet, small, avoiding any eye contact, ignoring the pain. It’s like she didn’t want to be seen or noticed.” Martha and George are listening with even deeper frowns, now. “But after a while, she seemed to open up a bit. I started rambling about Laf and how you taught me first aid- just trivial stuff, and she seemed good. She even smiled!” Hercules was really excited about the girl showing any positive emotion on her face- any signs of life, really. “Turns out she’s really good at drawing- I saw her sketches and they’re amazing. Did you know that she has a sister?!”

“A sister? I never knew! We have to ask for them to see each other! Herc that’s great news!” Martha shares Herc's excitement until his face goes from a smile to a frown and he speaks up again.

"Not really, Mom.” Herc's voice is filled with sadness again. “Eliza said that Peggy- the sister- is still in the hospital, in a coma... She didn’t seem very hopeful about her waking up.” Herc pauses to find the right words and look at his parents. Martha has her mouth squeezed into a thin line and there is a deep line in between her eyebrows. Some time through Hercules' story, George stood up and now is standing with his back to his son. He probably feels guilty for triggering the whole situation and hates that he can’t help the poor girl. Herc sighs and continues. “I think Eliza has given up and I hate seeing her suffer. And I hate not being able to help her.”

“As much as I hate that too, we can’t do anything more. We aren’t her legal guardians so we can’t even take her to a psychiatrist to get some medication. Hell, we can’t even take her to the hospital for the check-ups. They’re trying to find a family for her that will be able to deal with her trauma properly.” George speaks up, squeezing the bridge of his nose with closed eyes. "We can only wait.”


	7. The Second Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha is a sweetheart, Eliza is scared, Herc is worried, Washington is a dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for being super late and turning up with this shit of a chapter. ehhhh. i hope you enjoy?
> 
> tell me what you think please

“We can only wait.”

As much as she doesn’t want it to be, Martha knows it is true. They can only wait and see what happens. The worst part is that Eliza won’t be with them long enough for them to help her. In a few days, she’s going to a new house that will be better for her than they can ever be. She will be properly helped and accounted for and the people will know exactly how to deal with her problems.

After the awful panic attack, asking the girl to join the family at dinner is out of the question. Skipping meals is not something Eliza can do, considering the severity of her malnutrition and the wound on her side. What Martha decided to do is simply bring the girl a bowl of soup. Plain chicken or tomato soup was what they gave patients in the field hospitals after long periods of starvation or hypothermia. That was war, though, and it breaks Martha’s heart that the girl under her roof is in such bad state. She’s in the state of some of the soldiers she had to treat in the field hospitals and it’s surprising how foster care requires more of her trauma skills than anything else.

Being an army nurse was traumatizing in itself but she had George by her side. Eliza has nobody- nobody at all. And Martha failed her again. She failed to see the warning signs, the triggers of the panic attack. She failed to prevent it, she failed to step in in time, she failed to help her afterwards.

She broke her promise.

Around 8 pm, Martha knocks on Eliza’s door. _Wait, no_ \- The _guest room’s_ door. To her surprise, the girl opens it herself after a just few moments. Upon seeing Martha, her eyes widen and she takes a step backwards. Her expression is of a person expecting something horrible, but it relaxes a bit upon seeing the lady's smile. “I brought you soup, hun.” Eliza just squeezes her lips together nervously and takes it, when the older woman pushes it into her hand. “Thank you,” Eliza whispers in a voice tainted with worry and stress. “No problem, goodnight,” Martha replies while turning on her heel, still softly smiling. Elizabeth needed to know that the Washingtons were on her side, and if that means giving her space, so be it.

 

* * *

 

The first night in the Washington household was uneventful for Eliza. The awful pain she had to endure acted as a sort of sedative, giving her a dreamless night. But for her, a night like that was a blessing. A dreamless night meant a night without nightmares or flashbacks and it meant calm and quiet. She hasn’t had a night like that in a very long time.

After Mrs. Washington brought her the soup, she had a few spoonfuls, got ready for bed and almost passed out from exhaustion. She couldn't let herself sleep, though. She needed to stay alert, especially when the Washingtons were angry. Eliza ruined their dinner, so George will for sure not let that slide. She has a lock on her bathroom door and if she stays up long enough, she might hear George's footsteps. That will leave her a moment to hide behind a locked door and avoid anything the night has in store. Hiding never works out in the long term, but she _needs_ a calm night. She can just continue with her book for a few hours, and when the path is clear, go to sleep. _Her book_ , right. Last time she saw it was at the breakfast table, before changing the bandages.

She needs to find the book.

Eliza gathers all of her courage and knocks on Hercules' door. She takes a breath in, bracing herself for all of the “what if’s” to come true when the door opens. “Hi! Do you need anything?” The boy asks and a small smile appears on his face. Eliza wants to answer, but the words are stuck in her throat. She doesn’t need anything important after all and she doesn’t want to be a burden so she shakes her head. Hercules grew confused but didn’t close the door on Eliza’s weird behavior. She knew that she should say that she was looking for the book, but that would be causing a problem and that's the last thing she wants.

“Do you wanna come in?” The boy says after a while. Eliza whimpers, scared to answer and her previously semi-relaxed face darkens and she looks at Hercules fearfully. _No, no no_. She should run right now. He wants her in his room and _she has to run_. She squeezes her lips into a thin line, trying to stop her eyes from watering and shakes her head. She still can’t push out a single word, and right now her only thought is to get away from the man, yet she’s frozen to the spot. “Hey, hey” Hercules starts soothingly “it’s fine, you don’t have to. Were you looking for something?”

“The-the book?” She quietly pushes the words out after a stressful moment. She curses herself for stuttering and awaits the response.

“Oh ya! You left it at the table this morning. I put it in the library, so feel free to take it.” He says with a kind smile. Eliza couldn’t spot any sign of a trick or a lie on the boy’s face, so she just nodded wordlessly and turned around. She felt the door shut behind her and she let out a sigh of relief. The relief was short lived though, as she didn’t know where the library is and whether she could go in there.

She has 2 choices: either leave the book and deal with a sleepless night full of fear or go downstairs and talk with one of the Washingtons. A small decision, but in the past matters like this cost her a lot.

A lot too much.

 

* * *

 

Once, Laf and Herc found a puppy in the park near their school. It was a warm, may evening and they were on a walk when they found a small dog curled up in a box near an overflowing trash can. They first heard quiet whimpering and high pitched scowling. Herc was the one who came closer first. Inside the box that was the size of 2 shoeboxes, was a small mutt. Lafayette tried to reach into the box, to see the pup up close, but it only backed away into the corner with wide eyes, afraid. It kept staring at them, awaiting something terrible. You could see that the pup was bleeding from its side, where there was a huge gash. You could see all of its ribs poking out and the big knots in its hair. Lafayette reached out a hand for the dog to get familiar with and stroked the top of its head. It backed away with wide eyes and a whimper at first but later leaned into Laf’s touch.

“Herc, in my bag there’s a sandwich. Could you pass it to me please?” Lafayette asked rushing the words in a quick whisper. Herc reached for the lunchbox and took out the sandwich, passing it to his boyfriend. Laf took a piece of sausage from in between the bread and parted it in two.

He gave a piece to Herc and the other in his hand. “You gotta first let it slowly smell your hand and then give it the sausage,” Laf said with a serious expression that broke into a kind smile when he turned back to the box. Herc watched in awe at how Lafayette immediately knew how to build trust with the beaten puppy. Herc followed his boyfriend’s instructions and soon the puppy ate the 2 small pieces of sausage. They poured some water into the lid of the lunch box and let the animal drink.

“So what do we do with it-“ Herc asked but was cut off by Lafayette

“ _Him_ , Herc, it’s a boy” Laf explained a bit harshly, but still lovingly.

“What do we do with _him_? Do we take him?”

“I’m not leaving him. He’s all alone and I feel like he’s kinda beginning to trust me” Laf was speaking more to the dog and to himself than to Hercules but the other boy didn’t mind. Later on, they took the mutt to Lafayette’s house fed him and gave him a little pillow to sleep on. All the moves they did were slow and swift, to not scare the animal any further. Any rapid move resulted in the puppy squeaking and curling up in fear. His tail was curled up so low that it almost touched its stomach. Laf and Herc sat down a few feet away from the dog and slowly pushed one of Hercules’s knitted dolls for it to play with. Any normal puppy would jump around and play with the toy, but Marquis, as they named him, just sat there glancing between the boys and the doll with big scared eyes.

It took around a week for Marquis to get comfortable and trust Laf, a month to trust Hercules and Laf’s family, and around a year not shy away from strangers. You can still see him skittish around George or Martha when they see him or John and Alex when they visit. Even when playing with his favorite toys or on a walk with Lafayette, his tail is still curled underneath him most of the time. The scars and gashes are still pinkish underneath the longer hair. His frame is fuller and healthier, but he still can’t play for a long time without needing rest. Those things will stay with the pup for a long time to come and it scared Hercules.

It scared Hercules, because the exact same “beaten Puppy” vibe that he got from Marquis, he now gets from Eliza.

 

* * *

 

George heard light footsteps coming from the corridor. Soon after, he turned around and saw Elizabeth standing in the doorway with wide eyes.

“Hi, can I help you, Eliza?”

After a brief moment of eye contact, the girl looks down again before quietly asking an odd question, “Am I permitted to go into the library, sir?” She says it quickly and evenly as if she was reciting a formula.

George stands still for a moment, taken aback. He realizes that she had looked up once again as if examining his face for an answer or reaction. A moment later he stutters out, “Of course. Really, you can go wherever you like whenever you like. Consider this a blanket permission to do so at any time. You're also free to touch any of our other stuff. Nothing is off limits, okay?” Taking a breath, he jokes, “Don’t worry, it’s not like this is a prison or anything.”

The teen doesn’t respond, just stares at him with the same scared expression. In her head, she’s probably thinking this is a trick. “Thank you, sir” she replies after swallowing heavily. It is the closest expression to that of contentment, or maybe just relief, that the man has seen on her face since her arrival.

“No problem. It’s the second door to the left from the stairs.” George replies. He almost wanted to offer going up and showing the room to the girl, but he decided against it. What Eliza needs right now are space and peace and even if it breaks Georges heart that the teen is terrified of him, he’s willing to suffer to ease the girl's pain. The girl nods with her eyes glued to the floor and leaves the room. She turns the corner and lets out a sigh of relief, one that George clearly hears. No one has ever made him feel like such a bad guy before.

 

  
George finished the paper he was working on and left his office to go to bed. On his way, he notices that the light in the library is still on. Strange. It is already quite late, so what would anyone still be doing in the library? George opens the door slowly and slips into the room.  
The library is one of George’s favorite rooms in the house. Shelves line three of the walls from the floor to the ceiling. Countless pages of information that George and his family have collected over the years. A few of the shelves were dedicated to his studies, but the rest was all very random. The books range from law dictionaries to Shakespeare and Stephen King. A large fireplace was built into one of the walls. A couch sat facing it, flagged by armchairs on both sides and low table in front. It was the perfect place to read or study or simply relax.

“It’s rather late, isn’t it?” George points out as he walks farther into the room, talking to his wife who he assumes is sat there. He trails off as he catches the sight of Eliza laying on the couch. He did not expect that. Sure, he let her come in here, but staying up reading until 2 am was not what he had in mind when he said that ‘nothing is off-limits’. She is on her side with her knees drawn up towards her stomach. Her cheek is resting on an open book and her mouth is slightly open. A small noise escapes every once in a while. She is asleep- great.

Eliza looks younger sleeping. Her constantly tense frame and gaunt face made her look worn out during the day, but when sleeping, you can see the lively spirit that sits somewhere deep within her thin body. That girl is truly a piece of work, but it's something both him and Martha are willing to commit to. Every child deserves a loving family- they've always believed in that. Hercules was 3 years old when he came to live with them and it was the best decision of their lives. After they met him, adopting the boy was a no-brainer. Eliza, on the other hand, is the opposite of what Herc was like when he first arrived. Instead of a lively, hopeful child with lots of energy and happiness, they're dealing with a traumatized teen who's seen too much for anyone to handle. Who probably isn't going to be with them that long and who is now asleep on the library couch.

Waking her up was out of the question, but so was moving her himself. The girl must be exhausted, so George decides to leave her be. His fatherly instincts yearn to at least put a blanket over her, but he knows he can't do that. If she wakes up, she's gonna know that someone touched her at night and that is not a good way to build trust. There is the gas fireplace that turns on with a wall switch and that seems like the most reasonable option right now. Without thinking too much about it, he flicks the switch and soon there is a small fire and heat radiating throughout the room. George then partially closes the door and leaves the girl in the library. She needs all the rest she can get, and god knows she deserves it.

 


	8. The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hercules is a sweet sweet brother, Eliza panics, and Laf is there (kinda)
> 
> read the notes plz

Waking up, Eliza jerks up, breathing heavily. She looks around and lets out a sigh of relief as there isn’t anyone in the room. More than that, it doesn’t look like anyone has been there in the night. Her clothes are still on and the door is still closed.

She fell asleep in the library but it doesn’t seem like anyone noticed. Just like the night before, Eliza feels heat radiating off of her side. It’s hot pain, going through her body in paralyzing waves. She turns to lay on her back when she realizes that it’s not the same feeling. Looking around again her eyes catch on something that she hasn’t seen since that night at James’s house. There, a few feet away is a fire and it only seems to grow. Instantly her mind freezes, her world flips over and she can only focus on one thing. _Focus on the flames._

They move through the air reaching out to burn her whole world to ashes. Just like everything she owned and knew. Because that night she lost everything she cared about- she lost her sister.

_Peggy_

She feels a hand grab her throat, so tight that she can’t breathe. She needs air. She needs to get out. She has to get away from the fire, and more importantly, the person who caused it. Get away from James.

She tries to back away from the flames that cut into her like knives, in result falling off the side of the couch. The only thing she can see is the fire and, still on the floor, she tries to get further away. her back hits the bookshelf wall and upon the impact, a book falls off with a loud thud. eliza jumps and curls into herself for protection. Her throat feels raw from choking on thick billows of smoke. She’s on the floor, backed into a corner and she’s stuck there with the fire that only seems to get closer. Thick black smoke blocking out everything in her vision except the bright light from the flames. As smoke fills her lungs, she squeezes her eyes shut. It seems it has gone into her eyes, causing them to water, because there are tears running down her cheeks. She’s there, on the floor, stuck in a corner and the only thing she can think about is Peggy.

She ends up on the floor, without the energy to get back up, without the energy to move at all. She feels drained as her panic subsides, just to return moments later.

_She has to protect Peggy_

She can see the illuminated outline of the bookshelf, but its swaying. She's shaking, or her vision is waning, she can't tell under the underlying terror. Her throat constricts with choked up sobs, silent. It's the middle of the night and she can’t let her panic wake the Washington’s up.

Nothing registers in her mind anymore except pain and fear.

 

* * *

 

  
Herc often pulled all-nighters, especially when he had a test or a deadline. though Sometimes, like today, he just stayed up on his computer for too long. They seemed to be more frequent when Laf was in France because that was the only time they could talk without the time difference in their way. After that, they just got into a habit of late night talking. Just as Herc is about to close his laptop and say bye to Laf, he hears a loud thud coming from outside.

Stepping outside his room, he doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Through the double French door leading to the library, he sees the empty, messy sofa illuminated by the fireplace. His mom must have been reading and forgot to turn it off. But also coming from the library there's a soft whimpering sound. Walking in, he sees a terrified Eliza backed into a corner, hugging her knees to her chest. He can't see her face since it's covered by a mess of hair, but she’s shaking violently and seems to try to get as far into the corner as possible

"Hey hey, Eliza!" He squats to be on her level but the horrified girl doesn’t react. He knows better than to touch her, so he must think of something else. It’s probably more than a panic attack. Nightmare? Flashback? His mind is working on a superhuman speed.

He figures that it is probably a flashback or some other type of an awful episode. He is totally helpless but bringing any of his parents into this is just going to make the girl more terrified when she "wakes up”.

He tries calling her name, but Eliza is worlds away. Her eyes are still screwed shut and she’s still struggling to breathe.

There is a terrified gasp as Eliza flinches violently and retracts her arm with a shaky hiss as if she touched something hot or was burnt. A reaction someone might have when accidentally touching an open flame

_Flame_

_Fire_

_The fire_

He immediately jumps to his feet and runs to turn off the gas in the fireplace. The room is now completely dark but he can feel a shaky exhale from Eliza- some version of a sigh of relief, probably. _Relief_ \- that's a start.

In the darkness, he runs back to Eliza. "Hey, Eliza can you hear me?"

The only response is a whimper. Her frame seems more relaxed than before, but still ridiculously tense. She’s wound tight like a coil as if she’s expecting something horrible to happen at any second.

“The-the fire…” she pushes out in between the short breaths.

  
"Hey Eliza, there you are," Herc whispers softly. She’s still hyperventilating and now, in the moonlight, he sees there are tear streaks on her face. She’s quietly sobbing and generally seems in deep shock. Her bony arms still haven’t let her knees go and he still hasn’t seen her eyes open once.

“Eliza the fire is gone, you’re safe,” He says in the softest voice he can manage “You're safe, Eliza”

There is a sharp intake of breath and Herc glances back over at Eliza’s face. She opened her eyes and he can tell that she’s back in the present. She’s badly disoriented though, flailing around, sobbing and gasping for breath as she tries to take stock of her surroundings.  
“Hey, hey, Eliza?” Herc tries to take her hand, to comfort her in any way "...Eliza...?"

Her breath hitches, squirming out of Herc's reach, "D-don't touch m-me... P-please..." That makes Herc's heart shatter. Eliza sounds defeated. Hercules takes a big risk and lightly touches the tips of his fingers to Eliza’s face to try and center her. “Are you with me?”  
Jerking away at the proximity of a male, Eliza lets out a slight whimper and hugs herself tighter but locks eyes with Herc.  
“I'm not going to touch you, Eliza,” he murmurs in what he hopes to be a soft, soothing voice. “I’ve got you, Eliza. You’re safe. Do you know where you are?”  
“No,” Eliza whimpers brokenly, looking even more frantic as she realizes this.  
“That’s okay. You’re in our house in New York where you’re now staying with me and my parents. You’re safe with us. No one is going to hurt you here.”

“The fire…” Eliza chokes out, hiccupping through a full-body sob.

"It was just the fireplace, I turned it off already, you’re safe"

"But the room was on… on fire"

"Eliza, the fire was only in the fireplace. You’re safe, you don’t need to worry."

She looks at him not quite believing but he can see that she’s trying to figure something out. It's as if she’s trying to figure out the lie in his statement, not able to fathom that there _is_ no lie. That _she is_ truly safe.

"Peggy…"

He hears the whispered name but decides to ignore it.

"I think your cuts leaked. Can I see?" He asks softly and Eliza shows him the stained bandage.

"Can I change it?" He asks when he’s back with the first aid kit and Eliza’s breath hitches. She nods and offers her hand but it looks as if she’s about to panic again.

“Do you wanna talk about it? I mean the cut- you-you really panicked when I was patching you up today…” Herc tries to keep it nonchalant. Eliza’s panic attack really freaked him out and he just wants to understand it more.

Eliza sighs, she looks at her hand, remembering what happened to her before, what James did to cause such horrid pain. Herc doesn't say anything more just keeps cleaning the wound. If Eliza wants to talk, Herc will always listen, but he won't push Eliza to open up. He will wait until she's ready. It's quiet and he’s is surprised when Eliza starts talking.  
“I dropped a glass on the floor accidentally and James found out before I could clean it up,” she says and Herc looks up at Eliza who's looking at the cuts intently.  
“He was so angry. He started yelling and swearing at me for being a stupid idiot, for being so clumsy. He cut my hand open with the glass and it hurt so badly. He kept cutting open my hand, he kept opening it up and sticking the glass further in. I-I blacked out, it was too much. I… I woke up in the night with blood all over me. James… He wouldn’t let me go to a doctor, he left me to bleed a-and it wouldn't stop bleeding. I tried for three days to stop it and then I snuck out and found my friend who helped me. I wasn’t in school for 3 days, alone with him, and it was just… awful.”

Herc wraps a new bandage around her hand and decides to not say anything. It's hard to figure out what he should say right now.

"Do you wanna go back to your room or stay here? It's quite late so you should get some more sleep" He suggests, finishing up with her hand.

Eliza just nods and gets up on shaky legs, Herc following suit. The girl is about a foot shorter than him and extremely underweight and in any other circumstances, Hercules would want to carry her, for her own safety. Unfortunately, that's not possible and Eliza has to lean on the doorway when they reach her room. Herc knows this is the farthest he can go without Eliza reliving any more trauma.

"Will you be okay?" He asks softly. Eliza is looking down at her feet but gives Herc a nod. She is exhausted and barely standing on shaky legs.

"I'll be in my room," He says with a small smile when Eliza finally looks up.

"Thank you," She whispers in a raspy voice. These two words are filled with so much emotion and honest gratitude that Herc finds it hard to not gather the girl up in his arms and hug her tightly.

Instead, he just gives her a soft smile and a nod, not finding the right words for an answer. Just as he's about to leave, Eliza stops him. “Can you please not tell?”

Upon seeing her pleading eyes, Hercules doesn’t need her to explain what she means. Eliza is scared of the Washington’s finding out about the situation. Hercules lets out a sigh. “I won't if you don’t want me to, but I can assure you they would not be mad at all. But if you want, we can keep it to ourselves.”

She just gives him a nod and bites down on her lower lip. “G'night, Eliza,” Hercules says with another soft smile and turns to leave. The door closes behind him and light switches off from the space under the door, before hearing the flopping sound of the kid collapsing onto the mattress. It truly did sound as though she’d just let her body drop down from a standing position.

 

* * *

 

 

Back in his room, Hercules went straight to bed. He contemplated breaking the promise he made and telling his parents about what happened, but he decided that Eliza's newly built trust shouldn’t be broken. Instead, he just did what always seemed like a good idea- text laf.

 

 

**Demigod Herc, 2:43:**

**Laf, eliza just had a full-blown panic attack or some ptsd and she totally freaked out in the library**

**Baguette, 2:44:**

**wait how did that happen?**

**Baguette, 2:44:**

**do u know what triggered it?**

**Demigod Herc, 2:45:**

**i think it was because of fire. the fireplace was turned on and she was curled up in the corner trying to back away from it**

**Baguette, 2:45:**

**how did she even get to you guys?**

**Demigod Herc, 2:45:**

**cps took her from her father but i don’t know how that happened**

**Demigod Herc, 2:45:**

**mom didn’t let me read her file**

**Demigod Herc, 2:45:**

**apparently there’s some bad stuff in there**

**Baguette, 2:46:**

**god that sounds awful**

**Baguette, 2:46:**

**do you think it was abuse?**

**Demigod Herc, 2:46:**

**For sure, yes**

**Demigod Herc, 2:47:**

**she’s really thin and jumpy and she does not speak**

**Demigod Herc, 2:47:**

**and when she does it’s only when she’s spoken to first, or when i prompt her to open up a bit and she's in shock**

**Demigod Herc, 2:47:**

**and she still calls my parents sir and ma’am**

**Baguette, 2:47:**

**why don’t they tell her that’s it’s okay to call them by their names?**

**Demigod Herc, 2:48:**

**the amount of times she freaked out or expected being punished for simple things is kinda stopping them**

**Demigod Herc, 2:48:**

**they’ll do it when she’s less jumpy around them**

**Baguette, 2:48:**

**what if she never is?**

**Demigod Herc, 2:48:**

**such an optimist wow**

**Baguette, 2:48:**

**i’m just saying**

**Demigod Herc, 2:49:**

**i know i know**

**Demigod Herc, 2:49:**

**i’m also scared about that**

**Demigod Herc, 2:49:**

**but marquis was also like that when you first took him in**

**Demigod Herc, 2:49:**

**and he got better**

**Baguette, 2:49:**

**omg i just had an idea**

**Demigod Herc, 2:50:**

**what**

**Baguette, 2:50:**

**does eliza have any allergies**

**Demigod Herc, 2:50:**

**idk laf she literally came to us 2 days ago and she’s eaten one pancake that she couldn’t keep down and a few spoonfuls of soup**

**Baguette, 2:51:**

**no wonder she couldn’t keep down your pancakes lol**

**Baguette, 2:51:**

**she needs to try mine**

**Demigod Herc, 2:51:**

**laf it’s not funny**

**Baguette, 2:52:**

**i know i know sorry**

**Demigod Herc, 2:52:**

**why do you need to know about her allergies**

**Baguette, 2:52:**

**just check in her file or something and you’ll see tomorrow**

**Demigod Herc, 2:52:**

**i don’t think surprises are the best idea at a time like this.**

**Baguette, 2:53:**

**okay, well i was thinking that just like you compared eliza and marquis, we could introduce them to each other**

**Baguette, 2:53:**

**and then they can like bond and shit and maybe she can open up a bit**

**Baguette, 2:53:**

**not to us but to the dog**

**Baguette, 2:53:**

**and that’s still something**

**Baguette, 2:53:**

**but many people have fur allergies so that wouldn’t work**

**Demigod Herc, 2:54:**

**yes yes laf let’s do that**

**Demigod Herc, 2:54:**

**i’ll tell her about it in the morning and ask her**

**Demigod Herc, 2:54:**

**im definitely dating one of the good ones laf**

**Baguette, 2:54:**

**< 3**

**Baguette, 2:55:**

**okay now don’t text me until 12 i’ll be sleeping**

**Demigod Herc, 2:55:**

**night <3**

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, hello! My updating schedule is non-existent and I very much apologize. I'm involved in 3 scholarship programmes and it's taking up most of my time. They're coming to an end though, so I should have more time to write. So now, I need your help.
> 
> There are 2 ways I could take this story. One is more angsty and longer but involves a LOT of angst and sadness and pain. The other one is shorter and basically on the level of angst that has been displayed so far. 
> 
> So it all depends on what you guys want to read, so give me feedback, please <3
> 
> thank you so so much for reading

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments very much appreciated. Let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions <3


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